


Sword Swap

by Feynite



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-08-28 01:43:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16714132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feynite/pseuds/Feynite
Summary: The sword chooses Catra.Let’s pretend, for a moment, that the Sword of Protection works a little differently. A stolen skiff zips through the Whispy Woods. The path its on changes course around a wide tree, and a different girl is struck by a branch. Hard enough to knock the breath from her, as she plummets towards the ground in a rush of surprise and alarm. Her best friend’s hand reaches for her…Catra blinks awake in the tangle of the forest floor, and sees a sword.(Edit - title changed!)





	1. Chapter 1

The sword chooses Catra.

Let’s pretend, for a moment, that the Sword of Protection works a little differently. A stolen skiff zips through the Whispy Woods. The path it's on changes course around a wide tree, and a different girl is struck by a branch. Hard enough to knock the breath from her, as she plummets towards the ground in a rush of surprise and alarm. Her best friend’s hand reaches for her…

Catra blinks awake in the tangle of the forest floor, and sees a sword.

It calls to her. Somehow. Shining and bright, like everything that Catra isn’t supposed to be, or want. She crawls over, already getting over the impact of her fall, and reaches a hand out. The voice calling for her grows louder. Stronger. Images flash through her mind - temples and ruins, lights and crystals, bright things that beckon until she cries out in alarm and lets go again.

The next time she wakes, Adora is leaning over her. Concern writ large in her features.

“Catra? Are you alright? How many fingers am I holding up?”

She bats the fretting aside - don’t show weakness - and searches. Looking for the sword, but it’s nowhere to be found. Adora keeps worrying all the way back to the Fright Zone, convinced that Catra must have concussed herself. Putting her through stupid ‘health and safety’ tests before she finally relents.

The Force Captain badge is still shiny and new on her lapel.

When Catra sneaks out in the night, she is swift and silent and makes nary a sound.

By the time Adora wakes to find her gone, she’s already back in the wood again.

 

~

 

“Request permission to search for missing cadet-”

“Denied.”

Shadow Weaver’s tone is final. Adora tries not to bristle in place, as the third refusal in as many days sweeps over her. Something strange is going on. Even aside from Catra’s disappearance, Shadow Weaver has been behaving oddly. Adora’s not certain if it’s her promotion or not, but her attitude has changed. Something… seems to be bothering her. Eating at her, making her short-tempered and more impatient with Adora than usual.

Dismissive, even.

And that’s not the only thing. The mission Adora helmed was clearly awry. Their target was supposed to be a military outpost, but when they arrived, the structures were clearly civilian in nature. Adora called a full stop and demanded a review of intelligence reports, in light of the discrepancy. When she couldn’t reconcile the reports with the site their informants had given them, she ordered a full withdrawal.

The decision earned her a reprimand. Shadow Weaver even threatened to revoke her promotion, but it made no sense! If their intelligence was bad, then what good would it do to attack a civilian installation? They would be committing a war crime, wasting troops and firearms, and killing non-combatants! Not to mention, the  _real_  installation was as yet undiscovered. Adora knew what she had seen, she had even checked the area for illusions. Holographic tech or signs of magical activity, that might be disguising a military outpost as a civilian settlement.

Nothing.

The intelligence was  _bad,_  and what was more, Shadow Weaver couldn’t even qualify her reprimand, in light of that fact. She wanted to take Adora to task for failing to follow orders, but Adora was given  _command_  of the mission. Which entailed the authority to withdraw if variables no longer made the objective viable.

That was what commanders were for; why strikes were not simply led by pre-programmed drones, after all.

And now, she has yet to be given a second mission, and Shadow Weaver refuses to even let her investigate Catra’s disappearance.

“What is going on?” she finally asks, breaking protocol to address Shadow Weaver plainly.

Her mentor’s eyes narrow in the slits of her mask. The dark tendrils around her furl and unfurl in agitation.

“It is not your place to question me,” Shadow Weaver reminds her.

“With all due respect, Shadow Weaver, if I can tell that something is wrong then I will not be the only one.”

The comment seems to get through. At least a little. Adora relaxes her posture somewhat, and brings a hand to her chest.

“I’m  _trying_  to help,” she says. “I want to serve. I want to bring order. I want to do what’s right-”

“You want to find your lost stray,” Shadow Weaver snaps. Turning, she gestures, and Adora can tell by her tone that she’s frustrated. “All this time, all this energy spent on  _you,_  and for what? I have invested countless hours in your tutelage, poured years of resources into your training. The Horde is bigger than your personal attachments, Adora. Your little squad, that - that feckless cat of yours!  _You_  are supposed to be the one… you, you  _were_  supposed to be the one. The likeliest candidate. But now… I have a Force Captain who cannot take orders, and a traitor who has carried an ancient weapon right into our enemies’ hands.”

Adora is rigid with surprise.

“What?” she asks.

Shadow Weaver regards her inscrutably for a moment. Then she gestures. The screen on the far side of the room lights up. Adora turns, and sees a Horde military outpost on the screen. It’s located in the midst of what seem to be some very tangled and dangerous wilds, overgrown, with the local plantlife suffering from some kind of blight. As she watches, rebel insurgents attack the outpost with  _plants._

That alone is striking enough. The rebels look almost modest, in their flower-strewn clothing, but their assault is brutally effective. Horde soldiers are crushed, shredded, strangled, and facility bunkers are blown left and right. Despite this effectiveness, though, they are still attempting to thwart machines with plants. Some of the stationary guns rip through the aggressive foliage, and armoured troops begin to gain ground in defending the base…

…Until a sword-wielding figure descends on them, and promptly starts taking them out with obvious waves of magic.

A princess. It must be. But not any one that Adora has seen the records for. She spies a more familiar target - Bright Moon’s princess Glimmer, and a rebel cohort - following after the figure. And yet, something about the young woman’s face presses at Adora’s thoughts. She’s tall, and muscular, with feline features.  _I must be thinking of Catra,_  she decides. The woman has a bright red cape and wears a suit of golden armour. The tiara that frames her face reminds her of Catra’s headgear, too. The only article of clothing that doesn’t seem to go with the rest of her outfit is a crystal collar secured around her neck. Her hair is a massive mane, thick and dark, her tail is long, and her eyes…

Her eyes are mismatched. Bright yellow and blue.

If the woman wasn’t obviously much physically larger than her friend, Adora might almost think…

“Do you recognize her?” Shadow Weaver asks, pausing the scene on the new princess’s face.

“She’s a feline. Like Catra,” Adora says, cautiously.

Shadow Weaver hisses, and gestures emphatically.

“She  _is_  Catra!” her mentor exclaims. “Bearing the Sword of Protection, the- carrying a  _dangerous rebel weapon_. A magical device. She found it in the Whispering Woods, and all but handed it over to the rebels of Bright Moon.”

The sword-!

Adora looks at the screen again, eyes widening. The day they went out for their joy ride, the day before Catra left, her friend had talked about seeing a sword in the woods. Only briefly, but, in that way that Catra tended to have, of mentioning things fervently, only to renounce their importance to her the next minute. And she had been so distant afterwards… she had even mentioned it again, although Adora had been more worried over potential concussions at the time.

The sword must have been real. Catra must have gone back for it. Maybe even hoping to gain some credit for retrieving it, especially in light of Adora’s promotion. Her friend might not want the responsibilities of a Force Captain, but even Adora knew that she still wanted to gain credit and approval. Only, she must have been caught.

“Catra’s not a traitor,” Adora says, narrowing her eyes at the screen. She looks at the mismatched item on the ‘princess’ - the collar.

It looks more like the sort of thing one would expect to find on the Bright Moon princess. That sort of corrupt, magical aesthetic. Deceptively ‘pretty’, but rebel propaganda is only skin-deep.

Shadow Weaver rounds on her. Quickly, Adora points.

“Look,” she insists. “It’s a collar. The rebels are using her. Catra must have gone to retrieve the weapon - I admit, going solo was a bad decision on her part, she  _can_  be reckless - but then the rebels must have caught her. They’re using her to wield the weapon.”

Why, though? Wouldn’t that pose a massive liability?

But maybe something about the sword is dangerous. Too dangerous for a rebel to voluntarily wield it. Adora goes cold at the thought. What if it’s like radiation, what if the magic in it is lethal? Catra’s days could be numbered. Her health could already be in jeopardy…

Shadow Weaver is silent for a moment.

“You may… be onto something,” her mentor finally concedes. Adora feels her hope grow, as Shadow Weaver moves closer to the screen, and stares at the collar. “Or it may be nothing. Without the collar itself, it would be impossible to say for certain.”

Straightening her back, Adora offers a formal salute.

“I formally request permission to lead a strike team to attempt to retrieve Catra - and the weapon - from the enemy forces,” she says. “Shadow Weaver, I know Catra better than anyone. She did not betray the Horde. I would stake my entire career on it.”

“…You may well have to,” Shadow Weaver decides. She draws in a long breath, and lets it out again.

The look she gives Adora is cold. Assessing. Even… resentful, perhaps. Though Adora doesn’t know why.

“Clearly, mistakes have been made,” she says. Another gesture, and the screen clears. “But it might be too late to rectify matters. If Catra has truly not betrayed us, then you will bring her back. Alive. With the sword, and the collar. I will need them both if I am to assess this situation appropriately.”

Adora nods in acknowledgement. She turns swiftly, mind racing.

“Adora,” Shadow Weaver says, before she leaves.

She turns her head back towards the room, and waits. The atmosphere still feels… strange.

“Do not touch the sword.”

“It’s dangerous?” she confirms.

“You cannot trust anything it shows you,” Shadow Weaver says. “The illusions written into these weapons are absolute. That ‘village’ you refused to destroy? One of many more lies you must learn to see through, if you are to understand the nature of this war. No more disobedience. If I cannot trust in your loyalty, then there is no place for you in the Horde.”

So there  _was_  an illusion.

Adora nods, shamed as comprehension dawns. There is a reason for orders, after all. And why they must be followed. And with the rebels using Catra…

“I understand.”

She cannot afford to fail any more of the tests set before her.

 

~

 

“Okay, guys, I know we got off on the wrong foot, but I really feel like these past few adventures have been a terrific bonding experience for us,” Catra says, leaning heavily against Bow and Glimmer’s shoulders. “So how about we just cut to the bit where we have a touching heart-to-heart and someone takes the magical collar off of me?”

Glimmer snorts.

“Nice try,” she says, as she knocks the arm off of her shoulder.

Bow looks like he  _wants_  to fall for it, at least. He pats Catra’s back and looks at her with stupid, shiny eyes. Like some kind of baby deer.

“I believe in you,” he assures her. “And when that day finally comes and it’s not just you trying to convince us to take off the collar so you can run back to the Horde, it’s going to be  _amazing!”_

Catra sighs.

“I really… just… I’m sincerely hurt that you guys  _still_  don’t believe in me…”

Bow’s bottom lip wobbles.

Glimmer glares at her.

“You tried to stab me  _last night!”_

“What? Oh, that? No that was a friend… stabbing. Thing. Friendly! Friend-stabbing. Don’t you guys do that sort of stuff, y’know, among… uh… chums…?”

The three of them argue over the validity of ‘friendship stabbings’ as they make their way through Sea Worthy, until they finally reach the tavern. Catra takes it in with a little more enjoyment than she was able to spare the nightmare hippie plant village. At least until they get to the captain they’re hiring, and then she mostly just wants to punt him through a window.

He  _sings._

And over-charges.

Catra spots the wear and tear on his boots, though, and notes the total lack of an actual  _crew,_  and while it’s tempting to let Glimmer blow a significant chunk of Bright Moon’s treasury on hiring a hack, she’d like to be able to eat on this trip, too. So she haggles the swindling buccaneer down until he’s merely fleecing them, before demanding a basket of deep-fried shrimp in repayment. Bow gets it for her.

He’s less annoying than Kyle, she’ll give him that.

Sea Hawk, on the other hand, takes annoying to record new heights. Catra almost doesn’t know what’s worse, being on a boat or listening to his impromptu ‘chanties’. When he tries to get her to ‘pull her weight’ aboard, she just hisses at him until he backs off.

“Well at least you’re not  _all_  frighteningly able shipmates,” he says, with an uncomfortable laugh.

Catra nearly feeds him to the stupid sea monster her sails them right into, just on principle.

But they manage to make it to The Sea Gate in one piece, and without Catra drowning or choking on her own seasick vomit, which is the relevant part really. She can appreciate Princess Mermista’s apathy, but moreover, she can appreciate the fact that the Sea Gate is failing and that a Horde force is almost certainly on its way to finish the job.

Only problem is, the Horde thinks she’s a traitor. So if the unfettered armies pour through the gate while Catra’s on the other side, there are good odds that they’ll just try and kill her on sight. She’s not an idiot. She was a barely-tolerated cadet before she left; and she doubts Shadow Weaver will even care about the particulars of whether or not she’s being controlled. Right now, she’s just another threat for the Horde to take down.

In all honesty, while the collar keeps her from doing anything that Glimmer deems ‘bad’, it’s that thought more than anything that’s kept her captive.

Damned if she does, damned if she doesn’t.

“…I think the sword can probably fix the gate,” she suggests, reluctantly.

If she’d known who the Force Captain in charge of the attack on Sea Gate was, she never would have even suggested it.

 

~

 

“Focus fire on the gate,” Adora instructs. “Force Captain Scorpia, maintain steady bursts around the base of the energy field. Weaken the field enough to puncture and then widen the opening. Even if they can consolidate the gate’s power again, we might be able to get our ship through before they can close it.”

“Aye aye, Captain!” Scorpia agrees enthusiastically. Adora appreciates her presence on the mission, truth be told. The more experienced Force Captain is cheerful and enthusiast, and she can’t fault Shadow Weaver for giving her an escort. Not after the debacle of her first assignment.

This time is different, though.

Adora narrows her eyes as she spots the rebels. They’ve situated themselves up at a high point, near the gate. They’re using Catra to try and regenerate it, by the looks of things - her friend is holding the sword up, shadowed by Princess Glimmer, while the rest of the rebel forces scatter to try and intercept their vessel.

So.

Princess Glimmer is the one holding the invisible leash, then.

“You’re mine,” Adora vows in a whisper, as she lowers her spyglass.

“What?” Scorpia asks.

“Keep firing, and defend our position,” she orders. “You’re in command, while I take care of the second part of our mission.”

With a nod, Scorpia starts recharging the canon. Adora claims a skimmer and rides out towards the external ladder of the gate. It seems like most of Sea Gate’s forces have already been depleted, though. Abandoned in preparation for defeat, most likely. It’s to her advantage, as she manages to make her way up to the platform where Glimmer and Catra are.

“Catra!” she calls.

Her friend turns, eyes wide.

“Adora?!”

She should have known better. Emotions got the best of her; the call warns Princess Glimmer, of course. Adora is forced back as the princess hurls a ball of blinding-bright sparkles at her. However pretty princess powers might look, they pack a punch. Adora is nearly knocked off the floating platforms as she deflects, and only years of training let her keep her footing.

“Rebel witch!” she curses. “Let your captive go, or face the consequences!”

“I don’t take orders from  _you_ , Horde scum!” Princess Glimmer shouts back. The sword wavers, and the Sea Gate darkens a little. Glimmer moves Catra’s arm back up, and Adora sees  _red._  They  _are_  using her! Like some kind of prop, some - some mannequin, they can just parade around to get their weapon, or tool, or  _whatever_  that thing is to do what they need it to!

She takes aim and fires. The princess teleports out of the way, but it buys her enough time to leap her way up to the platform that Catra is on.

“Put down the sword, Catra!” she instructs, in case that might work.

“Yeah, uh, I’d  _love_  to, but this collar is keyed to make me obey Princess Sparklepants over there, so no can do,” Catra says.

Glimmer shoots her a glare.

“Oh yeah, you’re  _so_ loyal and good now, how could we ever doubt it?!” the princess snaps.

Adora takes the opening to fire off another shot. The princess teleports, but her landing brings her close enough to the edge of the platform that a swift strike has her careening down towards the water with a sharp cry.

Quickly, she holsters her weapon, and reaches for Catra. Taking her shoulders in hand as she looks grimly at the collar.

“…Wow, you’re really tall now,” she notes, quietly. Really tall. It’s so strange - how did that happen? It couldn’t have just been a growth spurt…

“Only sometimes. The vertigo gets intense,” Catra says. Which doesn’t really make it less confusing.

But they have more pressing things to deal with. Like the collar.

“How do I get this off of you?”

“If I knew that,  _I’d_  have gotten it off of me. Don’t-”

Adora reaches out to try and find a latch, and then yanks her hands back as her fingers go numb. She’s expecting pain, but apart from feeling  _unpleasant,_  there doesn’t seem to be much more to it than that.

“Yeah, don’t do that,” Catra tells her. “There’s no latch anyway. There’s some kind of trick to it; the Queen of Bright Moon knows it, and so does her daughter.”

Determinedly, Adora starts trying to figure out how she could simply carry Catra away. Would her friend be forced to struggle.

“Then we’ll figure it out later. I just need to get you-”

“Hah!”

Before she can finish her sentence, Princess Glimmer teleports back up onto the platform. Adora barely has time to register the presence before a set of shockingly strong arms close around her waist. Then there’s a feeling like she’s being rolled around in a very  _sparkly_  dryer, before open air surrounds her.

Princess Glimmer teleports them above the ocean. She lets go of Adora, before teleporting away again. Leaving her with little more than a cheeky wave. The air whips around her ears. She braces herself and hits the water, shocking cold and hard enough to bruise. But she keeps her wits enough to avoid breathing in any mouthfuls of sea water. With a rush of anger - how could she have let her guard down so badly?! - she pushes back up to the surface.

The princess didn’t take her far, but the situation is turning. They shouldn’t have only brought one ship. Some maniac is piloting a sailboat straight for their vessel, and it looks as if the Princess Mermista is commanding the waves. Adora has a split second to decide between heading back towards the ship or up to the platform.

_Catra…_

If they get the gate operational again, then the mission is done for. That’s not sentiment; it’s practical.  _Reverse course, keep away from that ship,_  she thinks, as if her thoughts could somehow psychically beam to Scorpia. But the other woman is an experienced Force Captain, and part of being in command is trusting to the powers of delegation. Adora swims back towards the platforms, only to find her path blocked by Mermista.

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” the princess says, blandly, before moving her arm and washing Adora backwards onto a wave.

 _No,_  she thinks.

Twisting in the water, she wrenches her weapon from her holster, and fires a shot. It goes wide, but manages to hit the princess in the shoulder.

The wave collapses.

Adora hits the side of the Horde ship, right before a flaming sailboat crashes into the opposite end.

Her ears are ringing, and her consciousness is flagging as she feels an exoskeletal arm close around her waist. Pulling her away from the flaming wreckage, as the rebels cheer; and Sea Gate begins to bright, closing the opening blasted through by their ship.

_No…_

At the top platform, she sees Catra’s red cape billowing.

_Dammit._

_No._


	2. Chapter 2

The back of Catra’s throat still tastes like the smoke from Entrapta’s castle, when she comes across Bow and Glimmer conspiring again. Whispering among themselves, like they think they’re subtle. She folds her arms and leans against the wall, and watches them for a while. Listening in, of course, but they just seem to be talking about one of Glimmer’s pet bugs, or something.

 

Her mind starts to wander, after a bit.

 

The rebellion doesn’t know what it’s got now that Entrapta’s signed up. That weirdo’s making things would send all the Horde techs giddy, if they saw even half of it. Why capturing her was never deemed a priority is beyond her; probably because Shadow Weaver’s so obsessed with magic, she’d never see all the possibilities in a __mechanical__  genius.

 

But Catra’s not about to mention all this to the rebels. The intelligence might come in handy later, though. When Adora finally catches up with them again, and Catra can seize another opportunity to escape.

 

That’s going to be a lot harder if Idiots One and Two are still on high alert about her escape attempts, though.

 

“So,” she finally interrupts. They both jump like startled rats. “What’re we talking about?”

 

Glimmer huffs at her.

 

“ _ _We__  aren’t talking about anything!” she snaps back.

 

Bow gives the princess a meaningful look, though. Her cheeks puff out a little, as if she wants to protest. But then she swallows it back down, and heaves a sigh, and folds her arms instead.

 

“Bow has this __crazy idea__  that maybe if we show you more of what the Resistance is fighting for, you’ll understand why beating the Horde isn’t just in __our__  best interests,” she says, every word dripping with skepticism for the whole idea.

 

Catra’s gotta hand it to her. The idea sounds pretty far-fetched to __her,__  too.

 

But honesty’s hardly the best policy.

 

“And what did Bow have in mind?” she wonders. “Another tour of the Moon Gardens?”

 

The gardens are very, very boring, and if that’s on the schedule, Catra doesn’t think she’ll even be able to __fake__  enthusiasm.

 

“No!” Bow says, however. He looks pleased with himself. “We’re going to take you to Mystacor! Glimmer’s ant rules there. It’s one of the biggest repositories of history and culture in all of Etheria, and it’s beautiful and __really cool,__ too!”

 

Catra blinks.

 

She’s pretty sure that a lady is in charge of Mystacor, not a bug. But otherwise…

 

“I’ve heard of Mystacor,” she says. “Bunch of stuffy mages hiding out in their floating kingdom. Another pack of cowards just waiting to be conquered.”

 

…Maybe not the best tone to be taking, she realizes about two minutes after it’s out of her mouth. Glimmer looks mad. Catra doesn’t really regret it, if she has a reliable source of entertainment here, it’s probably making Glimmer angry.

 

Bow spoils it, though, by restraining her a little.

 

“Well I can see why you might think that,” he says. “Which is why it’s a good idea for us to go! You can see for yourself what it’s really like. So far, the only places we’ve really been are places that are under attack. Well, and __here,__  but…”

 

“I’m not supposed to ‘wander’, here,” Catra concludes, wryly. She resists the urge to fidget with the collar.

 

“For good reason!” Glimmer says, as if she thinks Catra needs the reminder. Of course it’s for good reason; she wouldn’t let herself wander around, in their shoes. But she’s already tried playing the ‘I understand where you’re coming from’ card. It only half works, because honestly, these people are still pretty baffling.

 

A trip to Mystacor seems like an idea, though. An opportunity to get away is another chance to escape, and while she wouldn’t admit as much, Catra’s always eager to get away from her ‘room’ in Bright Moon castle. The cavernous space with its too-soft bed and empty silence __gnaws__  at her.

 

“So when do we go?” she asks.

 

“See?” Bow says, nudging Glimmer. “I told you she’d like the idea!”

 

“Only because she __wants to escape,”__  Glimmer retorts.

 

“Well that’s gratitude for you,” Catra says, idly burnishing her claws against the front of her jumpsuit. “Here I’ve saved your stupid plant friends, saved your stupid seaside friends, and even saved your stupid mad scientist friend, and yet all the thanks I get is an unkind word and a locked cage. You guys have more in common with the Horde than I ever would have guessed.”

 

The barb seems to land. Catra decides not to press it any further, and instead pushes away from the wall, and heads back down the corridor.

 

“Where are you going?!” Glimmer demands.

 

“Where __can__  I go, Princess Sparklepants? I’m heading back to my room. Lemme know when we’re leaving,” she calls back.

 

That ends up being a few hours later, in fact. Catra tries to memorize the route they trek though, but like most places outside of the Fright Zone, it’s hard for her to wrap her head around. Magic seems to make a lot of paths difficult to recollect. Glimmer has the sword, of course, strapped to her back. While Bow natters on about some new arrows he’s come up with. Not half bad, actually, though arrows themselves are still kind of paltry on the weapons tech front. Catra can’t help but wonder how much damage he could do with a mobile laser cannon, though.

 

For a minute, as they’re crossing into Mystacor, she thinks half her problems have just solved themselves when Bow and Glimmer seemingly jump to their deaths.

 

And if, in that minute, some part of her lurches in horror, it’s definitely just out of reflexive surprise.

 

When the floating platform reaches the mainland, though, she __definitely__  sees something out of the corner of her eye. Something dark, and familiar, that makes all of her muscles seize up in reflexive fear. Her heart thuds, heavily, before she blinks and realizes that the shadow has gone.

 

A shiver trails down her spine.

 

“What?” Bow asks, glancing in the same direction.

 

“...Nothing,” she says.

 

 _ _Shadow Weaver__?

 

That could be… bad.

 

Catra keeps an eye out, as they make their way to go and see the leader of Mystacor. Queen Castaspella. Who is not an ant - turns out she’s an ‘aunt’, which is a kind of special designation for somebody’s parents’ siblings or something. It’s tedious. There’s a tour, which Glimmer obviously doesn’t want to take - so of course Catra __leaps__  at the chance, even though Castaspella looks at the crystal collar she’s wearing in a way that says she knows __exactly__  what it does.

 

Mystacor, it turns out, has pretty terrible security aside from being hard to reach. They keep records in pretty, easily smashed crystals, like they think information should be ‘decorative’ and ‘fun’. There are also big, pretentious statues of past Mystacorians (or whatever they’re called) lined up in a big fancy hallway. It sort of reminds Catra of the Horde’s memorial plaques, for soldiers who die out in the field, except of course that there are statues. Generally speaking, the Horde’s not big on statues of anyone other than Hordak.

 

One of the statues gives Catra pause, though.

 

Light Spinner.

 

There’s something weirdly familiar about it. Must be the covered face - she looks kind of like a low-rent Shadow Weaver.

 

As Catra looks at the statue, she can’t escape the impression that the statue’s looking back. That the shadows behind it are just a little bit too __deep.__  It makes her hair stand on end. Makes her skin tingle with the memory of crimson magic, catching and holding her. That voice in her ear, furious, disapproving…

 

She jumps as the shadows seem to move.

 

“What?” Glimmer asks, giving her a disapproving look.

 

“What?” Catra snaps back, defensively. Can’t she do __anything__  without getting grief for it? No, of course not. “I’m sorry, was I not showing proper deference to the ostentatious statue line-up?”

 

Glimmer’s brow furrows, before she turns away. Bow shifts on his feet, while Castaspella gives her an annoyed look, and then suggests that they move on.

 

“You look kinda spooked,” Bow observes, as Catra gives the statue one last glance, and then follows him.

 

She wonders what she should say. That she thinks her old ‘mentor’ has managed to send a shadow puppet to follow them? Even the other recruits back home used to have troubles believing her when she talked about some of Shadow Weaver’s abilities. None of them were ever subjected to it as much - Shadow Weaver never __disciplined__  them as much. Especially not Adora. Adora would at least hear her out, though, and even if she didn’t believe her she’d do dumb things to try and make her feel better about it.

 

__It’s probably just your imagination. Why would Shadow Weaver be spying on us right now?_ _

 

Why indeed? At least in this case, Catra doesn’t have to speculate on that.

 

But what to do about it?

 

She guesses this kind of thing could be an opportunity. Adora would definitely tell Shadow Weaver about the collar. The question is, would it actually matter to that old crone? Or would she just decide it was Catra’s fault anyway, for sneaking out, and being weak enough to get caught?

 

The thought of the punishment waiting for her if Shadow Weaver is the first person to get her hands on her makes her stomach flip.

 

Under her collar, her neck itches.

 

“Hey, is there anything actually not __boring__  we could do here?” she asks. Her eyes catch on another shadow. Glimmer looks like she wants to be relieved that Catra’s stopped playing along with the tour games, but also doesn’t want to agree with Catra. Queen Castaspella huffs, and makes a comment under her breath about manners.

 

“You don’t think any of this is interesting?” Bow wonders.

 

Catra shrugs.

 

“Is any of it true?” she fires back.

 

“Well of course it’s true!” Castaspella replies, aghast. “Mystacor has some of the most comprehensive records and histories in all of Etheria.”

 

“Yeah, so does the Horde,” Catra scoffs. “Specially rewritten every two years or so to make sure the wrong ideas don’t stick around in inconvenient places.”

 

The awkward atmosphere feels a little vindicating.

 

“It’s not like that here,” Glimmer scolds her.

 

“Sure,” Catra says. “Long live the completely valid and in no way edited or revised histories of Mystacor. I’m hungry.”

 

Castaspella’s starting to develop a twitch above her left eyebrow.

 

“Glimmer I don’t think I like you hanging out with this girl,” she says.

 

“It’s - it’s __fine__ , Aunt Castaspella. Catra was just raised in a barn,” Glimmer replies, putting a hand to her brow, and letting out a sigh.

 

“Fright Zone barracks, actually,” Catra corrects. “I will say this for you guys, the food out here is a lot better.” She wonders what Adora would make of it. Horde rations are notoriously terrible. Sometimes Shadow Weaver would give Adora treats, when they were little. Just tiny round candies that didn’t taste like much of anything except ‘sweet’. Adora always said she didn’t like them, and would give them to Catra instead.

 

Catra always pretended she didn’t know Adora was lying.

 

There’s a lot more interesting food out here than either of them would have imagined. Although a lot of it makes her sick, too. She’s gotten the hang of it by now, though, and if she ever gets the chance, she’ll show Adora what stuff to steer clear of.

 

“It’s strange to think of children in the Horde,” Castaspella murmurs. Then she lets out a sigh. “Well, go on then. Glimmer, you know where the dining hall is. I suppose the tour is done.”

 

“Thanks for the propaganda,” Catra says, firing off a finger gun.

 

Glimmer catches her hand and puts it back down.

 

“Don’t do that,” she says.

 

“Oh what, is it __threatening?”__  Catra wonders. But she’s already being herded out of the corridor, down and away from the queen of Mystacor. Bow brings up the rear. They take a sharp turn, and Catra freezes as she sees a single glowing eye staring out at her. Just for a moment, in the shadow between two decorative bits of molding. Her heart jumps into her throat, and she flinches, before reflexively steeling herself. __Don’t let her see you blink.__

 

“What?” Glimmer asks. “Why are you so jumpy?”

 

“I’m not!” Catra snaps.

 

“You kind of are?” Bow puts forward.

 

Her tail lashes in agitation, and she shrugs off Glimmer’s hold on her arm.

 

“Well __maybe__  it’s because none of you have any concept of personal space,” she accuses. “You’re all so touch-y! I don’t think I’ve ever been touched this much before in my life, especially not by a couple of people who don’t even __know__  me!”

 

Bow and Glimmer share a look. It makes her even more annoyed. There always doing that, always listening to Catra talk about normal things, and then __looking__  at one another. Like they’re in on something that she isn’t. It’s infuriating. But at least it doesn’t last this long before Glimmer just throws up her hands.

 

“Alright, no touching,” she says. “Do you want food or not?”

 

“...Of course I want food. Duh. Free food? Yeah, I want it.”

 

Bow laughs awkwardly, trying to lighten the mood. They set off again.

  
Catra’s eyes linger on every single shadow they pass by.

 

 

~

 

 

Lord Hordak is not pleased by the disaster at Sea Gate.

 

Adora can’t blame him, of course. No one is pleased with the results of that mission, and her failure is also Shadow Weaver’s, and Scorpia’s. She’s brought them all down along with her.

 

Catra had been __right there.__  She’d been right in front of Adora! Shackled and used, caught in the raiment of a princess, like some kind of demented magical guinea pig. The resistance had used her to re-fortify Sea Gate. Lord Hordak is furious as the tactical defeat, they had been __so close__  to securing Etheria’s waterways once and for all. Adora is furious at herself for failing Catra, and the Horde, and yet another mission.

 

Now Sea Gate is nigh-unassailable again, and Catra is still in the clutches of the Bright Moon royal family.

 

Adora’s thoughts are grim as she answers Shadow Weaver’s summons. Stepping into the Black Garnet’s chamber, and offering a tight bow.

 

“You summoned me?”

 

Shadow Weaver looks at her for a moment. Her eyes narrow, before she glides over.

 

“Scouts have located Catra,” she says. “She has been spotted with the Bright Moon princess and an insurgent on the road to Mystacor.”

 

Adora feels a rush of hope. She can’t maintain appropriate composure entirely, as she clenches a hand into a fist, and holds it to her chest. As if she could somehow use that information to just grab hold of her friend and pull her back to the Fright Zone through thin air.

 

“I can have a force ready to go intercept in fifteen minutes,” she says. Then she hesitates. “But I thought no one knew how to get to Mystacor? How did our scouts recognize the route?”

 

Shadow Weaver turns away from her.

 

“ _ _Few__  people know how to reach Mystacor. I, however, happen to be one of them. That information is restricted,” she explains.

 

Adora supposes it’s not a surprise. Mystacor is one of the most dangerous places in Etheria, and she knows very little else about it beyond that. Its spellcasters are powerful. However, they are also reclusive. Cowardly. If Catra’s being take there, it can’t bode well for her. Who knows what kinds of things her captors have planned? It could be anything. Adora’s been reading up on reports of rebel prisoner abuse. Torture, interrogation, the damage inflicted by magical wounds…

 

She feels grim.

 

“We should stop them before they reach Mystacor,” she says. “I’ll-”

 

“You’ll do __nothing,”__  Shadow Weaver says, reproach sharp in her tone. The shadows around her flare in threat and agitation.

 

Adora freezes.

 

“Shadow Weaver…”

 

An accusing finger levels itself towards her.

 

“ _ _You__  have failed. Twice over,” her mentor reminds her. The shame of it stings. “I had so much faith in you. So misplaced. This situation is too important to suffer any more of your incompetence. __I__  will retrieve Catra myself.”

 

Adora hesitates, bearing the reprimand as deserved, but unable to avoid her conflicting feelings over the situation. Her fist clenches tighter, shaking.

 

“...Understood,” she nevertheless agrees, dutifully. “Shall I prepare an escort?”

 

Shadow Weaver chuckles.

 

“That won’t be necessary. Guard my door,” she instructs. “Make certain __nothing__  and __no one__  disturbs me. You should be able to manage at least that much.”

 

With a dismissive gesture, then, she moves back towards the Black Garnet. Placing her hands upon it, as the air fairly crackles with energy. Adora stays rooted to the spot, just for a moment longer. Wishing she could argue. Wondering if she even ought to. Shadow Weaver is powerful, of course. There are undoubtedly things she could do from this chamber. But Catra’s always been frightened of her magic, even if she won’t say. Shadow Weaver was too harsh in her discipline, even if Catra provoked her, it means she doesn’t trust the shadows.

 

“Shadow Weaver, what if-” Adora begins, wanting to suggest sending out a party, just in case.

 

The look she gets in response freezes her to her bones. Magic crackles and flares, and the sense of __threat__  is nearly overwhelming.

 

 _ _“Out,”__  Shadow Weaver commands.

 

With no further room to argue, Adora hastily backs through the open doorway again.

 

It slams down in front of her with a ‘bang’ that makes the entire corridor shake.

 

For a long moment she stand in place. Staring at it. Both of her fists are clenched, and after a minute, she realizes that they’re trembling. She forces herself to calm down. Taking deep breaths, fending off the crushing weight of failure and recrimination.

 

Shadow Weaver will get Catra back. This will work, she tells herself. And then things can start to get better again, or at least go back to the way they were.

 

Straightening her back, Adora takes up her guard post outside the door.

 

No one else is getting in or out, even if she has to stand here for days.

 

 

~

 

 

The food is indeed pretty good.

 

This is mainly all Catra will say for Mystacor, as she sits, glowering, on a beach towel, and angrily pulls sand out of her fur. Bow and Glimmer are ‘sunbathing’, which is pretty much just lying on blankets, out in the open. Waiting for something to happen by and kill them while they’re vulnerable, as near as Catra can tell. How this is supposed to be a relaxing experience is beyond her, but she’s not about to let them see her show any more weaknesses.

 

So she just sits quietly on her blanket, and glares out at the horizon.

 

The view’s interesting, at least. Mystacor’s lake is calm and glassy, and up so high, there are clouds that nearly touch the water as it spreads off into the distance. And it’s bright, and out in the wiiiide open, which means that even if they’re vulnerable to all kinds of attacks, it’s harder for any of Shadow Weaver’s magical minions to reach them.

 

After a few minutes, though, Catra gets antsy enough that she stands up from the blanket. Glimmer and Bow don’t have the sharpest hearing, and she can move silently when she wants to. She makes her way towards the edge of the water, light on her toes. A few freshwater crabs crawl around, grabbing things up with their claws. Catra tracks them for a little while, digging into the sand with her toes, until a breeze sends some of it scattering into her tail fur again and she grimaces.

 

 _ _“Catra,”__  a low voice whispers.

 

Towards the end of the beach, she spots several boulders. Big enough to shield something from the view of the beach. The shadows at the edges curl tellingly.

 

Catra debates, for a long moment. She could play dumb and pretend like she didn’t see it. A glance back at the Wonder Twins reveals that they’re still busy lying down with their eyes closed.

 

“...Might as well get this over with,” she tells herself.

 

The thing… the thing is. When Catra really thinks about it, there are some perks to being a rebel prisoner. Obviously, she hates it, it’s 99.9% awful and it’s a doomed venture anyways. Even if Glimmer’s princess alliance actually gains more ground, the Horde is __the Horde.__  It’s the winning side. If everyone was smarter, they’d be focusing on negotiating good terms of surrender, not trying to stave off the inevitable.

 

But even with the collar, and the sword, and the insufferable company, there might be something to be said for not feeling Shadow Weaver’s eyes on the back of her neck all the time. For not feeling the sharp rebuke of her magic, the angry growl of her voice, the inevitable pain… for having some breathing room.

 

Weird that she somehow has more of it while she's an active prisoner than a free cadet.

 

Catra folds her arms, mustering up her usual aura of defensive insouciance as she comes around the opposite side of the boulder.

 

The shadows recede. On the other side, she sees Adora waiting for her.

 

“Catra!” the other girl exclaims. “Thank goodness. I've come to rescue you!”

 

For a minute, it almost works. She hasn’t seen Adora since Sea Gate, doesn’t even know if she was injured or not; although she at least saw Scorpia get her away. It was the worst feeling. Watching the rebels gloat about beating back ‘the Evil Horde’. They’d even tried to congratulate her. As if _Catra_ won anything! She’d had to grit her teeth to keep from telling them all where they could shove their gratitude.

 

Seeing Adora again is a relief.

 

For a second.

 

Then she tilts her head and lashes her tail, annoyed.

 

“You never get her voice __quite__  right,” she observes.

 

The Shadow Adora’s friendly smile falls away. With a shrug, she turns back into smoke and illusion; roughly mirroring Shadow Weaver’s shape instead.

 

“I don’t know why you’d bother. You must know I’m a prisoner by now; if I could just run off, I already would have,” Catra says.

 

“Hmm,” Shadow Weaver replies, oddly subdued. “Adora believes you are not serving the rebels of your own volition.”

 

“Well she does know me __pretty well."__

 

An irritable scoff echoes out of the shadow minion.

 

“I know you quite well myself, do not forget. You are an opportunist, Catra. It is a useful trait, even if it can complicate your loyalties. Unlike Adora, you know how to work within the framework of circumstances that are not ideal.”

 

The comment takes her aback.

 

Did she just… kind of compliment Catra? And insult Adora? Or is she trying to say that she thinks Catra might be playing both sides? Not that she __wouldn’t,__  actually, if it seemed like a viable option. And… maybe for the time being, it actually is.

 

Plausible denial, after all. If the rebels actually pull some kind of victory out of all this, Catra can leverage it into gaining more credit for herself - maybe even getting this collar off. But if the Horde wins, she can always play the ‘unwilling prisoner’ card.

 

Hmm.

 

It’d be more tempting if she thought the rebels actually had a snowball’s chance in a volcano.

 

“I’m a survivor,” she concedes, waving a hand dismissively. "Which means I'm not an idiot. I wouldn't trade a solid post on the winning side for a prison cell with these doomed idiots."

 

Shadow Weaver’s puppet gestures towards her neck.

 

“Good to hear. That collar restricts your behaviour, and can be tracked. It will make escape difficult.”

 

Catra spreads her hands.

 

“Really? I hadn’t noticed. But if you want to tell me something I __don’t__  know, I’m open to suggestions,” she says. “As long as they don’t get me killed.”

 

The usual rebuke for her insolence doesn’t come.

 

“You’re in Mystacor,” Shadow Weaver tells her. “The magical capital of Etheria. There are tools here that can remove enchanted items, precisely what you need. Instead of lazing about on a beach, I suggest you take the opportunity presented by your captors’ __relaxed__  standards, and get back to the palace.”

 

Catra chuckles.

 

“Oh good, here I was worried we might actually get through an entire conversation without you insulting me,” she says. Raising a hand, she mocking wipes her brow in relief. “Close one.”

 

The shadow puppet ripples in irritation.

 

“You may not believe this, Catra, but everything I have done, I have done to prepare you for the world,” Shadow Weaver says. “I have no intention of abandoning you.”

 

That makes her feel… weird.

 

She shifts in place, and after a minute, can only shrug.

 

“...What should I do?” she finally asks.

 

“Head back to the palace,” Shadow Weaver instructs. “I will-”

 

The puppet is cut off by the sound of approaching footsteps. Catra turns, moving to block more of the boulder from view, as she hears it slink behind her, and then slip away around the other side of the rock. Just as Glimmer and Bow jog into view, looking alarmed.

 

“Catra!” Bow says, in relief. “There you are!”

 

“What are you doing?” Glimmer asks, suspiciously.

 

Reaching out, Catra pats the nearest patch of rock.

 

“Talking to myself,” she says. “I wanted some interesting conversation, but my options these days are pretty limited.”

 

“You’re in a floating magical kingdom renowned for housing some of the greatest scholars in Etheria,” Bow tells her.

 

“Yeah that’d be nerd talk, that’s not what I’m really after,” Catra tells him. “Can we head back to the palace?”

 

The Wonder Twins share another one of their looks.

 

“I thought you wanted to get out of there,” Glimmer says, folding her arms.

 

Catra shrugs.

 

“That was when I thought we were going someplace __more__  interesting, not heading outside to sit in the dirt and stare at clouds. At least inside there's no sand,” she quips. Turning on her heel, she starts walking back towards Queen Castaspella’s domain. After a minute, Glimmer and Bow call protests, and hurry after her. Scolding her for wandering off, for what must be the millionth time.

 

She tunes them out after a minute. Nothing she hasn’t heard from them before, of course. And It’s not like running will get her far, not with Princess Sparklepants getting better at teleporting by the day.

 

The thoughts in her head twist around one another, different factors weighing the situation. Plausible denial. Playing both sides. Magical tools that can remove the collar. Shadow Weaver’s puppets. Good food, long odds, Adora, and the memory of her mentor’s ‘discipline’ style suddenly refreshed in her mind.

 

She thinks she’s got a plan.

 

A really crazy plan. That mostly relies on Shadow Weaver’s ability to believe that Catra is incompetent.

 

So, it might actually be foolproof.


End file.
